


Brick by Brick

by churkey



Series: Sterek Bingo 2020 [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bipolar Disorder, But Psych Meds, Creeper Derek Hale, Depression, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, References to Drugs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:20:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24073597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/churkey/pseuds/churkey
Summary: Derek climbed into Stiles' window.He froze because everything felt *wrong*. Stiles wasn't sitting at his computer flipping through a million tabs. Or doing homework. Or playing videogames.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: Sterek Bingo 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1732879
Comments: 26
Kudos: 468





	Brick by Brick

**Author's Note:**

> For the Insomnia + Full-shit wolves + Baking squares.
> 
> Not really sure how prominent each feature has to be... But whatever.
> 
> I honestly just wanted to put this fic out there because in most of the stories I've read where Stiles (or someone) gets depressed there's a reason for it. Which, okay. But sometimes you just get depressed. It's a thing.

Derek climbed into Stiles’ window.

He froze because everything felt _wrong_. Stiles wasn’t sitting at his computer flipping through a million tabs. Or doing homework. Or playing videogames.

No, he was lying in bed. Doing nothing.

Still.

Derek had never _seen_ Stiles be so still. So used to Stiles’ frenetic energy. All flailing limbs and enthusiasm.

Not to mention the _smell_ in the room. It was heavy. None of the brightness Derek was used to. Stiles didn’t smell sad, exactly, it was more… melancholic?

“What’s wrong?” Derek asked.

For the first time since he’d met Stiles his surprise appearance garnered very little reaction.

Stiles just turned to face him, blinking slowly.

“Nothing’s wrong. Do you need something?” Stiles pushed himself out of bed. It was slow. Like maybe he’d been lying down for a long while.

“What’s wrong?” Derek asked again.

“I’m fine.”

Not only was Stiles entirely unconvincing in his tone, but he also wasn’t babbling. His speech was slow and mostly flat.

Derek was finding himself more unnerved by the minute.

“ _Stiles_ ,” he growled.

Stiles sighed, “Seriously. Nothing’s wrong. Well, not anything that can be fixed. I get like this sometimes.”

Derek didn’t buy it. But Stiles usually didn’t respond well when pushed too far.

“Fine. Can you do some research about trolls?” He asked.

“Sure. How urgently do you need it?”

“Not urgently. Just checking in to something,” Derek told Stiles.

“Okay.”

And that was apparently it. The complete lack of Stiles’ sarcasm, complaining, or any of his more irritating qualities was grating on Derek’s nerves.

So he grunted and left.

* * *

Derek couldn’t get settled. A nervous, anxious energy thrumming through his body.

He knew the reason.

Stiles.

He was surprised to find that he _cared_ that something was wrong with Stiles. Not only did he care but he missed all the things about Stiles that annoyed him.

Stiles was annoying. He _was_.

Except it turns out that Derek kind of liked him. That his annoyance had turned into something fond.

Maybe even something more.

Maybe he’d been clinging to his irritation as a way to avoid thinking about that _something more_.

He still didn’t plan on thinking about that. Not yet, at least.

Not until he figured out what was wrong.

Because Derek, damn his life, also missed the bright, energetic notes in Stiles’ scent. Even in the beginning, the scent of Stiles had smoothed out the rougher edges of Derek’s irritation. Made Derek tolerate shit from Stiles he wouldn’t from anyone else.

He was now realizing that it had been drawing him to Stiles’ house. Showing up with questions about trolls when it wasn’t immediately necessary.

Derek got up. Contrary to what Stiles and everyone thought, he didn’t spend much time brooding.

He liked _doing_ things (it kept his mind from wandering into dangerous territory).

The first step to figuring out what was wrong with Stiles was observing him.

Tracking other changes in his behaviour.

Maybe he was possessed. Or under a spell. Or being drained by some energy stealing monster.

Derek would figure it out and solve the problem.

* * *

A week later, he didn’t have much to go on.

His list of odd behaviour wasn’t long and not conclusive:

  * Stiles had insomnia. Derek hadn’t thought Stiles slept much, since he was always up late doing research. But he crashed and tended to sleep heavily after that. He was rarely exhausted. Now, Stiles would lie in bed for a few hours, drift off for a few, wake up and not go back to sleep. He was usually getting between 2-4 hours.
  * Stiles wasn’t doing any of the things Derek knew he enjoyed. No videogames. No research binges. He was watching movies but he didn’t seem to enjoy them. Or pay much attention.
  * Stiles moved slowly when he moved at all. No flailing, no twitching, nothing. None of the energy Derek was used to seeing.
  * Stiles wasn’t eating much. Derek had seen Stiles eat. It was generally disgusting but normal for a growing teen. Or a werewolf. He was maybe eating a meal a day.



It’s all Derek had.

He did notice, though, that Stiles did a decent job of faking his normal behaviour at school.

He was frustrated and decided to just confront Stiles about it.

* * *

“Why do you have insomnia?” Derek demanded as soon as he entered Stiles’ room.

“You’re such a creeper. Have you been watching me? It’s the only way you’d know something like that,” Stiles asked, none of the indignance Derek expected.

“Answer the question, Stiles,” Derek growled.

“It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it,” Stiles said.

“It’s something! You’re not sleeping, not playing videogames, you spend hours lying in bed, and you’re barely eating. Something’s wrong with you. If you don’t tell me, I’ll call a pack meeting about it. You’re too important to the pack,” Derek was exasperated with Stiles’ evasiveness.

Then he replayed what he’d just said. Yeah… Stiles would jump on this.

Stiles sat up and seemed truly engaged for the first time, “I’m too important… Oh my, god. You actually _care_ about me.”

His tone was disbelieving and that irritated Derek, “Yes. You’re pack. Of course I care. Now tell me what’s wrong.”

Stiles looks at him for a long moment and then sighs, “I’m depressed.”

“Depressed,” Derek knows his voice is probably too flat.

“Yes, depressed. It’s a thing that happens,” Stiles says.

“Is there something going on that I should know about?” Derek can feel his eyes glowing.

“No, dude. Look, I don’t like talking about it because of mental health stigmas and I already have to deal with enough ableism because of the ADHD. I’m bipolar. Which is one of those things people associate with being crazy. So, yeah, I cycle through being okay, hypo-mania, and depression. I’m in a depressive phase. There’s nothing to do about it. The medical approach to disability says that it’s just my wonky brain chemistry. I’ve tried a bunch of the meds but a lot of psych meds aren’t great for teens. Maybe in a few years, I can try again. Because, big guy, it sucks,” Stiles says.

It’s kind of a relief knowing that Stiles can still dump a bunch of information but Derek doesn’t like problems with no solutions.

“Fine. But you need to eat more. You’re getting too skinny,” Derek grumps.

Stiles rolls his eyes, “Derek, there’s no one here to make food. I barely have the energy to _eat_ much less make the food.”

Derek will not accept defeat.

* * *

This is why Stiles comes downstairs the next day to find Derek baking in his kitchen.

Derek’s not the best cook but he grew up baking with his mom.

It was one of his favourite things because his sisters didn’t like it, so it was usually just the two of them. It was most often the only time he got alone with his mom.

While it hurts to remember, taking care of pack is more important.

“You’re baking. In my kitchen,” Stiles sounds stunned.

“You need to eat more,” Derek simply replies.

Stiles just sits at the kitchen table and watches Derek.

He also eats the quiche Derek puts in front of him.

* * *

The eating is good, but it isn’t enough.

Despite what everyone thinks – especially Stiles – he can do research. He’s researched bipolar. He knows that he can’t ‘fix’ Stiles.

Helping Stiles with self-care is one thing but Derek wants to do more.

He thinks about how Stiles hasn’t told anyone about it. How he’s told _Derek_ about it.

Thinks about the research that says support systems are important.

Derek’s not used to being _anyone’s_ support system, even though he’s the alpha.

It’s his fault. His attitude isn’t one that encourages his betas to seek comfort and support.

It might be time to change that. But he has his own issues and Stiles needs help _now_.

Derek knows he isn’t great at giving comfort. Not as he is now.

That leaves him only one option if he wants to give support and comfort to Stiles.

* * *

He hasn’t told anyone about this.

In part because he hadn’t wanted to deal with the teasing or jokes. It’s something special to him. Makes him feel connected to his mom.

Like maybe he’s worthy of her alpha spark.

He lets himself into Stiles’ house before he gets home from school. Quickly undresses and does a full shift.

Stiles startles when he sees the large, black wolf in his room.

“Oh my, god. You’re a wolf. In my room,” Stiles breathes in shock and his heart starts to race.

Derek flashes his eyes, hoping that it’ll prevent Stiles from panicking.

 _“Derek?”_ Stiles gasps.

Derek walks over and licks his hand.

“You shifted into an actual wolf. In my bedroom. Why–?” Stiles begins but Derek just tugs him to the bed by his sleeve and nudges Stiles onto it.

Once Stiles seems to get the gist of what he wants, he settles on the bed.

Derek jumps up and lies on him.

“You weigh a ton, sourwolf. I think I can feel my organs compressing,” Stiles complains.

But his hand is coming up and stroking at Derek’s fur. He stops wriggling and, for the first time in weeks, his scent lightens. Just a little.

“Thanks for being here, Derek. I’m used to just dealing with all of this alone. It helps, more than you know, to feel like I’m not alone.”

They stay like that for about an hour before Derek gets up to make dinner.

* * *

It becomes a regular thing.

Derek will go to Stiles’, make dinner, and then shift. Turns out that having a large wolf to pet helps Stiles fall to sleep. He still wakes up too early but is getting a little more sleep.

His scent on Stiles must draw the other betas to him because they start showing up at his place. Not entirely surprised to find Derek there.

It takes time but eventually Stiles stops faking being okay. It’s too exhausting to keep up all day and harder at home when Derek is around.

Derek has to talk to his betas. Doesn’t tell them anything about Stiles but makes it clear that they need to keep their comments about his behaviour and scent to themselves when they’re guests in his house.

Privacy might be different for wolves, but everyone is entitled to dignity.

The increased support helps.

It’s not a cure. Stiles isn’t magically fixed. But his scent lightens a bit more.

There’s a fringe benefit to it all. His betas start seeing Derek as an alpha they can seek comfort from.

It bonds the pack tighter.

* * *

Stiles talks to Derek while he’s a wolf.

Something about the dark and the fur makes it easier for him to be honest. To talk about himself in ways that he avoids outside of these quiet, still moments.

Derek learns a lot about Stiles.

It feels like a gift.

The first night Stiles asks Derek not to shift is a little awkward at first.

They settle into it. Cuddling like this is different. But Derek likes being able to wrap his arms around Stiles. Likes having his hair played with just as much as his fur.

It doesn’t take much time for Derek to start talking back.

To open up in ways he never has.

(Not even with Laura. They’d mostly relied on scent and touch to communicate their deeper feelings.)

Derek’s never trusted someone enough to talk. No one’s ever cared enough to listen.

It feels like a gift.

* * *

Eventually Stiles cycles out of his depression.

Eventually Derek learns the rhythms of his cycles. Learns the difference between Stiles’ enthusiastic and energetic behaviour when he’s mostly okay. Learns to tell when that energy becomes frenetic and manic.

It’s when Stiles is manic that Derek has to watch out the most. It’s when his impulse control is at it’s worst. When he’s truly reckless about his safety.

It’s hard, at first.

Derek doesn’t want to change Stiles. Is too in love with the bright, enthusiasm of his scent. But he also needs Stiles to be safe. Needs to protect.

It takes Stiles time to understand that. To learn that Derek only holds him back when he’s manic and too impulsive and reckless. To trust Derek when he says he loves him as he is. That he doesn’t think Stiles is weak.

Derek is self-aware enough to know he has his own issues. Issues with self-worth and guilt. A dangerous desire to punish himself.

Derek also learns to trust Stiles. To listen when he offers suggestions and to his plans. Learns to trust Stiles when he insists that Derek is being reckless. Always too quick to martyr himself.

It’s a balance.

Neither of them are surprised when trust and comfort become love. When love becomes romance.

When neither can remember the last time they slept alone.

Years in the future, they’ll both realize that they can’t remember their first kiss.

Their relationship had grown and changed so organically.

Brick by brick until they had a home in each other.

**Author's Note:**

> I'll seriously never stop talking about psych meds as a totally valid thing. Not for everyone, sure. But there are enough fics where they're viewed negatively, that I don't mind being the counter-balance.


End file.
